


Cecilia Rory's Risotto

by musicmillennia



Series: Ramsay Rory Collection (HK au) [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Chef Mick Rory, Cooking, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hell's Kitchen AU, IT'S RAAAAAW, Kidfic, Look at it, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: Or, how Kendra Saunders became Chef Rory's other sous chef in the middle of service, and Leonard guarantees good ratings. And, most importantly, how Sous Chef Nate can fuck off.[Hell's Kitchen AU]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prouvairablehulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/gifts).



The kitchen's holding a Family Night. Actual children are sitting at the tables, gawking with their parents as Rory yells every curse in the English language. The faces are all unrecognizable.

But for this one.

If there's anything the Red and Blue teams have come to expect from cooking in Chef Mick Rory's kitchen, it's definitely not for  _Leonard_ Rory to stride through the glass door holding a lobster risotto. He's immaculate in his navy blue suit and tie. Even the ring on his finger is polished to shine.

His voice whips over Mick's latest tirade: "Who cooked this?"

Mick whirls on his heel, red anger fading into plain confusion. "Fuck're you talking about, Snart?"

("They're  _married_ ," says Red Team member Hannah, "but he still calls him Snart?")

Snart plops the risotto in front of him. "Well?"

The Blue Team peeks at the risotto. Only a couple members remain confused, while the rest look like they're ready to bolt.

("We're dead," says Walter of the Blue Team. "Dead, dead, dead.")

Mick takes a nearby spoon and scoops it. "What kind of undercooked  _bullshit_ is this?!" he snaps, "Look at it! It's  _fucking raw_!"

The spoon clangs across the floor.

Mick braces himself against the counter. " _Greg_!"

"Yes, Chef!"

"What kind of shit is _this_?"

"I'm sorry, Chef!"

"This was going to my _daughter_ , you incompetent fuck!"

(The camera zooms ominously on the Blue Team's shocked faces. The Red Team scrunches their faces in instinctive sympathy.)

(Greg hangs his head. " _Fuck_.")

"Flaming fucking bastard," Mick snarls.

"I'll refire it right away, Chef!" Greg says.

"You're not gettin' anywhere near my kid's dish, fuckface! Step the fuck back! And _you_!"

Mick rounds on Sous Chef Nate.

"I turn my back for _five fucking seconds_ , and you're lookin' at this shit and sendin' it off? Oh, yeah, this is just fucking five star dining right here, ain't it?  _Bullshit_!"

Nate shakes his head, wide-eyed. "It _did_ look great, Chef!"

"Don't give me that, you steely little fuck!" Mick roars, "I hate you and your stupid peacock hair and dickish face, but I thought you had f _ucking ability_! Get the fuck outta my kitchen!"

"Mick!"

" _Go_!"

Nate hangs his head and hurries out.

"Snart!" Mick barks, "What are you doing over that stove?"

"I'm cooking our daughter's appetizer, Mick," Len calmly replies. "Clearly your little entourage can't."

Mick rolls his eyes. "Get the fuck back to your seat."

"You get the fuck back to expediting," Len promptly replies, "because, again, your people can't tell a well-cooked risotto from crunchy mess."

" _Len_."

Len peers at him. " _Mick_."

Mick rolls his eyes again. "Fine, fuck-ever. Ray!"

Ray jogs over. "Yeah?"

"Don't fuckin' jog over here," Mick growls, "what the fuck d'you think we're runnin' here, a McDonald's?"

Ray bites his lip. "Right. Yeah."

Mick shakes his head. "Just―I see Kendra over your shoulder. Bring 'er over here."

Kendra Saunders, who sits with her wife Sara, turns as Ray puts his hand on her shoulder. She's stunning in a spaghetti-strapped black gown, diamond hawk tied between her breasts. She pecks a smirking Sara's lips and follows Ray over.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I'm surrounded by incompetent fucks," Mick says.

"Except for your partner?"

Mick stares at her like she's sprouted wings. "Of course except my partner, you flying fuckin' bitch."

Kendra raises her eyebrow.

Mick gives her a dismissive wave. "Yeah, yeah, okay. I just need a sous chef right now, and I know you already got your main course."

Kendra hums. "I suppose I could help you out instead of having a nice, entertaining dinner with my wife. Provided it's a more permanent position."

(Red Team Jacelyn's shakes her head with a smile, saying, "Kendra Saunders is known as a bird of prey in the culinary world. She really is.")

Mick snorts. "Well I ain't gettin' Nate's skinny ass back in here."

Kendra grins and prowls for the door. "Give me an apron."

She crosses her arms and peers at the Blue Team. "Because I can cook a risotto in eight-inch heels and a nice dress, people."

Mick and Len match her pleased predator's stare.

"Ray, give my love to Sara," Kendra calls.

As she goes to the back for an apron, Len plates the risotto.

Before he leaves with it, Mick holds a hand up. "Wait, wait, wait. All you fucksticks, get over here!  _Get over here_!  _Look at this_!"

Len sardonically holds out his plate for the Blue Team to gawk at.

"Greg!" Mick snaps. He points at the risotto. "Fucking. Perfectly. Cooked! First-fucking-try! So reach down your fucking ass and pull out your tiny balls, or get the fuck out!"

"Yes, Chef!"

"Good luck," Len drawls.

"Thank you," the Blue Team choruses.

"I wasn't talking to you," Len says.

Mick, Kendra, and Amaya snicker to themselves. Len saunters off.

When Len gets back to his two kids and sister, Cece cheers over her risotto.

"How's Daddy?" Luke Rory asks.

"Peachy," Len says, "as always."

"And how was it working one the line again?" Lisa asks, "I saw Kendra put an apron over that lovely dress."

"It was just riveting," Len deadpans. "The risotto I made for you got shown to the whole team."

Cece gasps. "Really?!"

"Mhm."

"You  _fucking assholes_!" Mick bellows across the room, "Give me a fucking medium rare before I set you all on the stove and cook your asses myself!"

"Daddy's gonna fill another swear jar, isn't he?" Luke asks.

Len smirks. "Well, Luke. Someone's gotta pay for my new car."

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry. Dearest Amaya will appear way more. I'm ashamed at how she only peeked in this fic.


End file.
